A Hoosier Chronicle eBook

On the veranda of his Waupegan cottage Bassett and
Fitch enjoyed the wholesome airs of the country.
Late in the afternoon the fussy little steamer that
traversed the lake paused at the Bassett dock to deliver
a telegram, which Bassett read without emotion.
He passed the yellow slip of paper to Fitch, who read
it and handed it back.

“Harwood’s a clever fellow; but you oughtn’t
to push him into politics. He’s better
than that.”

“I suppose he is,” said Bassett; “but
I need him.”

CHAPTER XX

INTERVIEWS IN TWO KEYS

Mrs. Bassett remained in bed the day following the
convention, less exhausted by the scenes she had witnessed
than appalled by their interpretation in the newspapers.
The reappearance of Sylvia Garrison had revived the
apprehensions which the girl’s visit to Waupegan
four years earlier had awakened. She had hoped
that Sylvia’s long absences might have operated
to diminish Mrs. Owen’s interest and she had
managed in one way and another to keep them apart
during the college holidays, but the death of Professor
Kelton had evidently thrown Sylvia back upon Mrs.
Owen. Jealous fears danced blackly in Mrs. Bassett’s
tired brain.

At a season when she was always busiest with her farms
Mrs. Owen had made a long journey to see Sylvia graduated;
and here was the girl established on the most intimate
terms in the Delaware Street house, no doubt for the
remainder of her life. Mrs. Owen did not lightly
or often change her plans; but she had abandoned her
project of spending the summer at the lake to accommodate
herself to the convenience of her protegee. Mrs.
Bassett’s ill-health was by no means a matter
of illusion; she was not well and her sojourns in
sanatoriums had served to alienate her in a measure
from her family. Marian had grown to womanhood
without realizing her mother’s ideals. She
had hoped to make a very different person of her daughter,
and Sylvia’s reappearance intensified her sense
of defeat. Even in the retrospect she saw no
reason why Marian might not have pursued the course
that Sylvia had followed; in her confused annoyances
and agitations she was bitter not only against Marian
but against Marian’s father. The time had
come when she must take a stand against his further
dallyings in politics.

Her day at the convention hall had yielded only the
most disagreeable impressions. Such incidents
as had not eluded her own understanding on the spot
had been freely rendered by the newspapers. It
was all sordid and gross—­not at all in
keeping with her first experience of politics, gained
in her girlhood, when her father had stood high in
the councils of the nation, winning coveted positions
without the support of such allies as she had seen
cheering her husband’s triumph on the floor of
the convention. There had strayed into her hands
an envelope of newspaper clippings from an agency